


Nestrian Requiem

by asuma



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Dark, F/M, Gen, Murder, Mystery, Organized Crime, Other, Police, Slow Build, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuma/pseuds/asuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a ghost that is very much alive. She walks the streets of Cyrkensia, unaware of the strings attached to her that make her a dangerous piece in the game that has plagued the city of romantics and beyond. // a modern mafia au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nestrian Requiem

> _camilla_

Her red lips curled as she read the text. It was the small ray of light that cut through the curtained darkness of the hotel room, her eyes straining to hungrily drink it in. Refreshing, like breaking the surface of the water that threatened to suffocate her.

The scene was all too familiar, so familiar that any alternate would be all too quaint for her. Clothes strewn about, the terrible musk of last night's bed partner, perhaps the degradation of a marriage. It never really mattered to Camilla Nohr. It wasn't a marriage of her own she was degrading. These men were garbage in their own right for eyeing her with designs of adultery, forsaking the sanctity of their marriage beds. To think they could ensnare _her_ — perhaps the aphrodisiac on her lips was a drug all worth succumbing to.

And besides, in the rare event that she find herself in a tight bind, Father dearest could easily untangle any strings that threatened to ensnare his beloved daughter. After all, he was often the one responsible for choosing her bedfellows.

Careful not to wake the other body in the bed, Camilla slipped into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. A quick glance at the mirror caused a scowl to permeate on her normally serene features.

_I really am beginning to look like her._

It was a thought that only continued to haunt her the older she became, a thought she tried to keep at bay by grasping at the features she shared with her other siblings. It was something she knew for certain. Out of her siblings, she perhaps resembled their father the least. Camilla had no desire to speak to the woman who, after being replaced by her father, seethed in jealousy and managed to poison at least half of Garon's mistresses, save Garon's actual wife. She doted on her daughter, protecting her from the treachery that comes from being involved with the Nohrs, but as soon as Garon named her as an officially recognized daughter of his, in line for some inheritance, Camilla ceased all contact with her mother. The feeling was mutual, and for all she knew, her mother was perhaps playing lapcat to Garon now that Katerina was dead.

She shook all thoughts of that as she washed away the remnants of yesterday's makeup. Today would be a good day. She had anticipated today for the longest time. Elise certainly couldn't stop chatting about it, going on for hours about how special today would be. Today was a rare occasion that Xander deemed worthy of setting aside a whole day away from his work. Even if Leo wouldn't admit it, Camilla had caught him mumbling in his sleep about it.

There was no doubt that the Nohrs were excited about the arrival of their darling sister, Corrin.

Corrin had never set foot in the romantic city of Cyrkensia, where Garon had chosen to center Nohr Corp activities to properly compete against major competitors worldwide and to maintain control of their... profitable business operations. The girl had always lived in the family estate in the northern town of Norden Bollwerk, under the care of Gunter. Camilla couldn't help but pity the poor girl. She was always somewhat sickly, kept inside due to a traumatic event that left her shaken and unable to remember much before their father had decided to take her under his wing. To this day, the girl couldn't elaborate on what had transpired, nor would she perhaps ever be able to. At this point, it was perhaps best that Corrin not attempt to force herself to recall events that transpired almost two decades ago. And with better memories to content herself with, Camilla made certain her sister would ever want to dwell on those memories.

Camilla couldn't blame her younger sister for the lapse of memory. Camilla herself upon occasion would wish that she had the luxury of forgetting the hell that came from being born to Garon Nohr. Whatever traumatized Corrin was perhaps another episode akin to the nightmare Camilla simply couldn't wake up from.

"My darling will never have to suffer. I will make sure of that. Father will never force her to do what I do," Camilla said as she applied a canyon brown shade of lipstick.

She frowned at the state of her attire. Of course she didn't bring a change of clothes. She would have to request Beruka to bring her a change of clothing when picking her up from the hotel. For now, she shimmied into the cocktail dress she wore to yesterday's black tie charity event.

She texted Beruka and tidied up the room, removing every sign that the room was occupied by Camilla Nohr. Her bed partner still snored, in a state of deep, heavy sleep Camilla was a stranger to. She would normally stay until they were awake, in which they would fuss and ask her if she enjoyed the night's activites. She would laugh demurely and answer in the affirmative, no matter how bad the experience was. She would make a show about her nudity, quickly pulling the sheets over her breasts and laughing about her lack of modesty. She would then excuse herself, saying she should go wash up and get dressed. Gathering her clothing, she would lock the bathroom and text her father and brother of any scandal they could exploit or any business agreement she had managed to lock with her poisoned lips.

She no longer cried silently to herself in the four walls of the luxury bathrooms of these smoky hotel rooms.

Today was no day for tears. She wasn't going to wait for this man to stir and make a big deal about not letting anyone know about the liasions that had occured and timing their departures from the hotel. Instead, she scribbled her tidings on a memo and signed it with a kiss.

She was gone as quickly as she came. Last night would have only been just a dream, had he not seen the flash of purple hair, the slam of the door, and the note on the desk.

 

_Sweetie,_

_I have to run off to the airport now. Thanks for last night and your generous gift. It has been successfully transferred into my account. And don't worry, my father may be a powerful man, but he won't touch you, as long as you haven't hurt daddy's little girl._

_Love,_

_Camilla Nohr_

 

He scowled as he checked his bank account, sighing in resignation.

Love is a drug that simply does not come cheap.

 

* * *

 

> _hinoka_

She had often dryly joked that her brother was already faithfully married to his work, but here she was, standing in the same room as his mistress, the bold young woman who managed to distract him long enough to revive the Shirasagi estate garden and enjoy occasional nights under the stars. Scarlet had a penchant for jewels and flowers, as reflected in the dress Oboro had designed. She wasn't the Camilla Nohr kind of beauty that the public seemed to pounce on, but today, she would be the most beautiful woman in the world. Hinoka would make sure of it.

At least, she would do as much in her power to help, which was unfortunately very limited in comparison to Oboro, who effortless commanded attention in the room, perhaps even more so than the bride herself. Though Scarlet was strong-willed and stubborn in her own right, usually not putting up with Oboro's rather extravagant demands, she seemed particularly vulnerable today, easily bending to Oboro's will.

If Hinoka didn't know any better, she would have assumed that Oboro was the one getting married here. Oboro was a ruthless critic to say the least.

"Mozu, these are the wrong pair of shoes. These are for the _second reception outfit_ , not for the chapel outfit. Bring the right ones!"

Hinoka cringed, glad that she was merely observing, not on the receiving end of Oboro's frustration. Hinoka was genuinely impressed by Oboro's talent. Oboro had managed to design Scarlet a dress for the Chevois-inspired ceremony, a white kimono for the Byakuyan ceremony, several dress options for the reception, and even several outfits for the honeymoon. This excluded the bridesmaid dresses, Ryoma's outfits, and even Takumi's outfits (who specifically told her not to wory herself about creating outfits for him— but he was in no position to object). Hinoka couldn't help but wonder how Oboro's own wedding would play out— and couldn't help but shudder. Hinoka said a small prayer for Takumi for his eventual proposal to his high-maintenance girlfriend. Or perhaps, he would be fine, with just how uptight he himself was.

Hinoka balked at the thought of her younger brother getting married, out of all things. This whole event made her feel old. She wasn't getting any younger, and she knew it. On the rare occasions that she found herself at her family's estate, Reina would trade jests with her about how she had yet to find anyone, that she need not tread on the path of "old maid" that Reina so proudly pranced upon. Orochi would go on to joke about the possibility of Hinoka hiding a secret relationship.

Hinoka laughed at the very notion of hiding a relationship. Nothing stayed secret to the Hoshidos for very long. She may have slightly estranged herself by moving out of her childhood home and pursuing a career her stepmother was not all in favor for, but if she knew one fact, she knew that nothing that happened in Cyrkensia escaped the Hoshidos' watchful gaze. Takumi had attempted to keep his relationship with Oboro under the radar, perhaps in fear of Mikoto's judgment, but he knew immediately that the gig was up when Mikoto invited the two of them to her personal parlor for tea and snacks.

_I hope she knows what she is in for_ , Hinoka thought to herself as she watched Mozu outfit the bride with the proper footwear.

"Please talk to her, Hinoka. I can't work under these conditions," Oboro said, appearing behind the couch, snapping Hinoka back into awareness.

“What do you mean? You seem to be just fine directing traffic. I'll only get in the way," Hinoka said, crossing her arms and lounging further into the couch.

"She isn't in the state of mind I need her to be in," Oboro complained, pinching her nose as her face contorted into disdain. "Mother came in earlier to get outfitted, and now Scarlet's only been nodding to everything I've been saying."

Hinoka raised her eyebrow as Oboro turned around to berate another assistant for asking her the difference between taffeta and satin, who rolled her eyes at a question that was oh so common sense.  

"Doesn't that make your job much easier? You're not exactly the kind of person people would argue against, and arguing with you would only be more stressful today."

"And you know Scarlet isn't the kind of person to simply balk down. I don't know what Mother said to spook her, but everything is going smoothly except for the bride herself. She deserves much better than this, and Ryoma isn't going to be happy if his bride is shaking in her heels. Hinoka, I'm scared that she's having second thoughts," Oboro said, her eyes pleading for some sympathy. Hinoka nodded in understanding. It was almost as if Oboro was saying that _she_ was having second thoughts herself. And that was something Hinoka couldn't blame her for.

She rose from the couch and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry. Scarlet won't be having cold feet tonight. Not with how confident she was about marrying Ryoma. I'll talk to her."

Oboro walked over to Scarlet, telling her to take a seat and rest.

"Girls, let's gather in the parlor and give Scarlet a break. Mozu, please bring my sketchbook. I need to make some alterations on the kimono," Oboro said, clearing out the room, giving Hinoka a reassuring smile.

As soon as the door closed, Scarlet let out a huge sigh of relief, releasing the tension trapped in her lungs.

Hinoka had never had a conversation with her futuer sister-in-law beyond the young woman formally requesting her blessing on an uneventful Sunday afternoon at the office. Ryoma himself wasn't very descriptive or outright when it came to describing the woman he loved. He was only articulate on paper, and Hinoka had no desire to read his personal pages on the matter. He was never one for words.

“I know Oboro would probably yell at us if she saw, but do you want me to pour you a cup of tea?" Hinoka asked, shifting awkwardly on the couch.

But damn was she not one for words.

“It's fine, Hinoka. I'll live. I'm not much of a tea drinker," Scarlet said, her eyes locked on the floor.

Hinoka wondered what in the world her stepmother could have said to scare Scarlet into such a submissive state. Did Mikoto disapprove of Scarlet being a coffee drinker? Did she set expectations high? Did she express secret disapproval? Mikoto was a sweet woman who has her moments of humor, but as the widow of Sumeragi Hoshido and the de facto head of the household, Mikoto's pull was strong.

"Hey Hinoka? Don't worry about me. I don't need any pity. I know Oboro told you to talk to me. I will marry your brother before the end of the day in more ways than one, so no need to waste your breath on convincing me against second thoughts I don't have, "Scarlet said, crossing her arms, looking through Hinoka with ruby red eyes. Red, vulnerable eyes that reminded Hinoka of another who had looked at her with such helplessness.

"Of course you're going to," Hinoka said, pouring herself a cup of tea. She swirled the cup, talking in the aroma. "I might not be the best person to tell you this, given the circumstances of my, ahem, abandonment of family matters, but I know you're not going to hear this properly from Takumi, nor will Sakura have the guts to bring it up to you. We hope you know what you're getting into."

"Is there something about Ryoma I don't know about?"

Hinoka sipped her cup of tea, looking her sister-in-law in the eyes, softening her own.

"I don't know what my stepmother told you, but this is a life she was thrust into when she married my father. A life my own mother had to live with before exiting this life on her own terms. It breaks my brother's heart that this is what he has to offer you, and it would break his heart even more if you go down our mother's own path. Our mother was a strong woman, and so are you."

"Hinoka, what are you trying to get at? Are you trying to convince me to stop the ceremony?" Scarlet asked, now glaring directly into Hinoka's eyes.

"Absolutely not. I won't rob my brother of his happiness on his wedding day, bu he won't blame you if you leave. He had just been too soft to show you the exit door was always open, and that it will always be open. No, dear sister, I am trying to show you that it's still not too late to leave before you get in too deep."

"He warned me about the family business."

"You're just like me. You aren't going anywhere once you've made your decision."

"My mind is made up. I'll take him and the hell he brings with him."

 

* * *

 

> _laslow_

Laslow felt very much alone in the city of pleasure. He wasn't ungrateful for it, certainly, as his previous assignments were in pretty awful locations. Cyrkensia allowed him many a great distractions and opportunities for leisure and luxury, but in truth, those distractions proved to make the man feel empty, both in the hart and in the wallet, when the amount of time he paid for ran out. It was times like these that he envied whatever mess Selena and Odin had, even when it was a frankly horrible time for Laslow when the two were on an off period.

_No one in Nestra could compare to her, but you, you sly dog, are just not worth waiting for._

He took a sip of his coffee as he scrolled through the Ylissean Royal Family's official Reeking Box page. They seemed to be keeping themselves relatively busy, with Princess Lissa taking the crown princess with her on a diplomatic tour of Plegia, whose economy seemed to finally be picking up again.

Looking at pictures of Princess Lucina only reminded him of how angry she was probably going to be once he returned. The nature of his work didn't allow him the luxury of devulging his location, even to members of the Ylissean royal family. This was perhaps the largest source of envy that Laslow had for Odin and Selena. Though they made him feel much less lonely than he could be, they shared something that he simply couldn't have in a city of romanticism.

Exiting the Reeking Box tab, he loaded the Deeprealm network and opened his case file.

Almost empty.

They had been in Cyrkensia for almost a month already, and all they managed to accomplish was a tour of the city's tourist attractions. Odin had managed to take Selena on a date at the famous opera house. This was perhaps the most unproductive case the three of them had ever worked on.

The only lead they had was the anonymous tip to come to Cyrkensia.

Frowning, Laslow checked if the database had found anything from the keywords they had inputted the other night from the encrypted data they mined from the source.

Laslow paused as a single article appeared on the screen. He put on his reading glasses, squinting as he tried to interpret what appeared to be the next lead.

It wasn't an article at all.

It was an advertisement for a show at the opera house, starring a woman named Layla.

**icequeen** : Laslow, please keep your personal stuff off the work network.

**indigoskies** : Don't worry, doll, this isn't my personal agenda. THis was simply the only thing that popped up from the database search.

**thedarkdork** : Ooh, an opera? Classy, calling to the centuries of nobility that course through my veins!

**indigoskies** : This Layla concert is tomorrow night. I'm sure we can find our way in if Frederick let's us.

**icequeen** : This sounds like a complete waste of time. Our mark will not be lounging around, enjoying opera.

**indigoskies** : Who knows, our man just might have good tastes. Besides, we haven't had a single lead since we got here. I want to trust we can follow this. Face it, Selena, we're getting soft.

**thedarkdork** : So we go to this show and maybe we'll find something related to our man Silence? How shall we find Silence at an opera house?!

**icequeen** : Anyways. Fine, I agree. We've done nothing but contribute to Cyrkensia's tourism industry in the month we've been here. Silence is still at large and we still don't have a clear picture what their role was in the crime war 25 years ago. We just know that silence was responsible for the attack on the Exalt and his sister, and that Nestra is clearly unable to figure this out.

**thedarkdork** : We're making good progress, team. I'll get Uncle Bear to give us our access for tomorrow!

**icequeen** : Odin, you better not take all credit for this progress, let me call!

\- _icequeen has left -_

_\- thedarkdork has left -_

Laslow crossed his arms as he viewed the advertisement again. Finding Silence at an opera house. It felt very unlikely for them to find the man supposedly responsible for attacking Ylisse without reason. The man was simply an enigma. A minor crime boss whose disappearance was a mystery. From the reports, he was made out to be an independent whose role was arming both sides. He needed to be taken down.

He disappeared on his own terms. Uninvestigated, forgotten as the public mourned Sumeragi's death. Only to have the name resurface during an attack in Ylisse. The captured terrorists were murdered before they could answer to interrogation.

And now he resurfaces at an opera, from a cryptic clue that left the Ylissean agents feeling like participants of a treasure hunt.

Laslow frowned, unfamiliar with the opera. It was rare for him not to know a show, with his mother having been said to be Ferox's best dancer and performer before she was recruited by the Ylisseans. She made sure her son was well-versed in the finer arts.

The opera told the story of a princess, forced to choose between the family she was born to and the family she was raised with. However, Layla didn't appear to play the princess, rather, she was featured as the mystical princess songstress involved in the switch of princesses. Layla's strong voice made her suited to sing the powerful ballad meant to grant the princess the power and strength to face her enemies, and eventually, the siblings she had grown up with. The opera was said to be based on a classic tragedy from Nestra, even involving a tragic love between the princess and the brother she had grown with, who becomes king upon the death of his older brother by his sister's hand. Had Laslow been in Cyrkensia for pleasure alone, he perhaps would have taken his mother to see this.

The princess was played by a demure singer with long blue hair by the name Lavinia. To Laslow, she struck him as a natural beauty, her golden eyes seeming to gaze straight into his soul.

Perhaps he did have time for pleasure. Sipping his cup of coffee, he laughed at himself.

Laslow, you sly dog.

* * *

 

Her knees trembled as she exited the airplane, but from the moment her eyes met theirs, she knew she would not fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Stephanotis floribunda - marital happiness, desire to travel


End file.
